


Tres & William  II

by bittenfeld



Category: Trinity Blood
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Male/Android Slash, Pre-Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 23:11:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4456130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William is slowly healing from his brutal ordeal with Kaspar von Neumann, mentally and physically.  But he’s still plagued by nightmares, nightmares that Tres Iqus might be able to assuage…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tres & William  II

William is slowly healing from his ordeal with Kaspar von Neumann, mentally and physi­cally. But he’s still plagued by nightmares.

One evening he’s running a full diagnostic or complete upgrade, or something, on Tres that will take hours to complete. Tres is lying on a table in the computer lab, undressed, cables and wires connected to various ports. Because it’s late and he’s tired, William leaves and goes to bed.

But the nightmares come again, waking him up. He tries to go back to sleep, but the disturb­ing dreams won’t leave him alone. Some of them are of him being trapped in von Neumann’s control again, others are just some amorphous dread that jerk him awake in alarm, sweating, heart thudding. For a long time he lies awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm his mind.

Finally because that’s not working, and claustrophobia is closing in, he gets up, still in his night-clothes, and goes back to the computer lab. Tres’ scan is still running, and while it runs he’s unresponsive in sleep mode, glass eyes staring up blankly at the ceiling.

William goes over to the console to check the data streaming across the control monitor. So far so good.

So he just pulls up a chair to sit and watch the android lying on the table. A feeling of fond­ness wells up for humanoid machine – for everything Tres has done for the AX, but especially for Tres rescuing him from von Neumann – the protection that had comforted William at that time when William had been completely drained, mentally, physically, emotionally, pushed to his limit and be­yond – at least it seemed like the artificial human felt concern and care for him.

William knows full well that to anthropomorphize Tres should be no more than human fan­tasy-thinking. After all, he’s even had reason a number of times to disassemble portions of the mech­anical man, even removing the face-plate to work inside the head cavity. So he’s quite familiar with the robotic skeleton beneath the artificial skin. And William has practically memorized Gari­baldi’s work – he’s read every bit of the bishop’s journals and notes and experiment-data-sheets regarding the creation of the HC series. And yet –

There _is_ human brain tissue in Tres, not much, but just enough connected to his CPU to allow far greater flexibility and capabilities than even the most complex electronics could create, such as self-programming from experiential input and intuitive reasoning, and far subtler and effective human interface. That was the stroke of genius for the Killing Doll experiment – and also the ethical contro­versy that ultimately doomed the project. The genetically-engineered nearly-perfected human fetu­ses, were test-tube-bred, then sacrificed to the project so that their brain tissue could be harvested and fused with highly-advanced AI in a nearly-perfected robot body. The frontal lobes were not used, so no individual personality and no conscience should have affected the genocide-assault dolls.

But William also knows that the human brain is somewhat holographic, and cells of one part of the brain can develop to take over the functions of another damaged or missing part. So could the small amount of brain tissue in the android develop some frontal-lobe faculties like self-awareness? a personality? even a conscience?

And after all, some bit of one of those children still lives in Tres.

For the two weeks that William was in the hospital, Tres was there, hardly leaving his side. Kate stayed as much as she could, as well, but she had a ship to run, so it was Tres who took it upon himself to stand as William’s guardian. And after William was released, Tres still, in between job duties, stayed at the Professor’s residence. He gave up his nightly post in Caterina’s chambers to re­main at William’s bedside, as William suffered through his night-terrors.

Fondly William reached out a hand to stroke the short reddish-brown hair, and marveled once again at the perfection of Bishop Garibaldi’s creation. It was not only a masterpiece of AI develop­ment, but indeed a masterpiece of art. The beautifully sculpted synth-flesh, the handsome crafted facial features – none of that was necessary for a mechanical soldier, it wasn’t even necessary for a battle-machine to look human. But Gepetto Garibaldi would not be satisfied with simply a metal humanoid framework – he considered the Dolls his children, he loved them, and he designed an attractive face and figure to complement the superb quality within.

William’s fingers traced over the face, over the line of a cheekbone, down to rub a thumb over the lips, caressed the attractive features. The synth-flesh was warm to the touch, as it was designed to dissipate the heat of the mechanics within, but even that added to the illusion of real humanness. And something in the feel of the artificial skin, so life-like, and his fondness for the doll, however ‘human’ it might be, suddenly coalesced into a need, a longing for intimacy… a desire for the android to be real, to reciprocate feelings, to share – physical touch…?

At that, William’s lips quirked a tiny smile. That would be wrong on so many levels, in fact, on probably just about every level that could be considered… Obviously the lack of sleep was affect­ing him. Not to mention he definitely was anthropomorphizing too much…

But once thought, the idea would not be banished.

“Just call me Pygmalion,” he murmured in amusement, allowing himself the pleasure of stro­king down the bare arm, up the inner flesh to the elbow. Just this one momentary indulgence – no more. Tres was in sleep mode – he would never know. It would remain William’s private little memory, and nothing more.

The artificial skin had a smooth silky feel to it… very attractive, very... appealing… then gently slipping his fingers around the android’s right hand, he thoughtfully caressed the palm, the fingertips. Yes, he could definitely get used to this… very used to this –

Robotic fingers closed about his hand.

In surprise, he tried to pull away, but the grip held him. Not hurtfully, but firmly so he couldn’t free himself.

A soft whirring sound of servo-motors and gears as Tres’ operating system came back on-line and his head turned toward William.

“Ah, Tres, you’re awake,” William greeted blithely to cover his embarrassment.

“Status report,” the near-monotone voice inquired, and the grip finally released him.

William glanced over at the console. “Everything looks fine, we’re just about done, not too much longer now. Oh, there’s a little anomaly in sector 908-A-112-4, but that can be tweaked later. How do you feel?”

“The signals from sector 908-A-112-4 are slightly out of phase, but not enough to affect main functionality. However, in addition, vision system in sector 5913.B-76 has been compromised, resul­ting in degradation of accuracy of left targeting optical sensor by 0.53 percent.”

“Really? – mm – that shouldn’t have happened. Guess I’ll have to run another diagnostic. But not tonight. We’ll finish tomorrow.”

“At any rate, Professor Wordsworth,” the artificial man continued, “I was not inquiring about my status – I was inquiring about yours.”

William sighed. “I’m doing as well as can be expected, I suppose.”

“You are supposed to be sleeping now. Why are you here?”

“Nightmares.” He shrugged. “I’m not getting any rest – I figured I may as well be getting some work done.” With a little apologetic smile, he glanced over at the figure on the table.

Tres’ eyes were fixed directly on him. “What was your purpose in holding my hand?”

At that, William’s smile widened guiltily. “Caught in the act, eh? How did you know? I thought you were in sleep mode.”

“I was, however my tactile sensors still registered your touch. Explain, please.”

“Nothing to explain, old friend. I suppose I was just feeling sentimental.”

“What do you require from me?”

Rising from his chair, before he gave any private thoughts away – _I’d like to get you in bed, my friend_ – William began unhooking the cables from the recumbent form. “I don’t require anything from you, Tres. You’ve done more than enough for me already, and I really appreciate it.” As he walked across to the computer bank, the gaze of glass eyes followed him intently.

“Well, I’m going back to bed,” the Professor announced with a yawn. “You can stay here, Tres. We’ll finish tomorrow.”  
* * * * *

But as he lay in bed, again the thoughts swarmed through his mind – warm desires – forbid­den desires – for the non-human entity left back in the computer lab. Surely no harm could come of it – and no one else need even find out. But it wouldn’t be fair to the android who had no desire… indeed, no hormonal glands to create desire. If William moved any further in that direction it could only be for his own needs to be fulfilled, and Tres would be no more that simply an object being used.

Out in the hallway, measured mechanical footsteps approached. Evidently Tres chose not to wait in the computer lab for the rest of the night. Without bothering to knock, the robot opened the door and entered the room.

“What do you require from me?” Tres asked once again in the dim light of William’s bed chamber.

The naïve offer was almost too tempting. But William shook his head. “Thank you for your consideration, Tres, but I really don’t require anything from you at this time.”

But the cyborg’s eyes continued to watch him directly; and in a sudden flash of comprehen­sion, William suddenly realized what the mechanical man, with his limited emotional expressiveness, was attempting to communicate.

“Tres,” he urged, “what is it that you want to be required of you?”

“You are my programmer. It is necessary for my functionality that you do not remain damaged. Nineteen-point-six minutes ago, you input tactile data. What you need I will give to you.”

A little smiled touched William’s lips. “What I need, would be quite…inappropriate, my friend. I would never want to hurt you.”

“You cannot hurt me. I am a machine.”

“Yes, well, I know, but that’s not quite what I meant.”

“I understand what you meant.”

At that, William glanced up at the glass gaze pinned directly on him. What could the mach­ine understand? Just how advanced could the six ounces of human brain tissue wired to the CPU pos­si­bly be? “How much _do_ you know, Tres?” he questioned in curiosity.

“I assume you are not requesting the capacity of my memory units, as you are already aware that amount, Professor. If you require an alternate response, please narrow the parameters of your inquiry.”

William smiled to himself. Sometimes Tres seemed to understand inductively, other times, he reverted to the literal. It was hard to know just how much that small bit of human brain tissue was capable of, and how much it was not.

Rolling partway over in bed, he reached for the clock on the night-table. Surely it had to be getting close to dawn. As he did so, his nightshirt rode up. He thought nothing of it, until Tres leaned closer to place a hand on the exposed skin of his back. Abruptly William flinched slightly. Tres took no notice of his reaction, but traced fingers over the whip scars marring his flesh, still red and tender.

William tried falsely to make light of it. “Well I guess those won’t be going away. Souve­nirs, I suppose.”

If Tres’ voice was capable of expressing any emotion, it came through now. “I cannot forgive him.”

“Father Tres,” William chided mildly, “have you forgotten the very core of our Teachings? Forgiveness is the Way of the Lord.”

But Tres merely reiterated, “He hurt you. He will not be forgiven. Do you forgive him, Pro­fessor?”

“Not yet, I suppose. Perhaps later. It’s still… too close.” William heaved a tired sigh. “Well, I guess he and the Department of Inquisition have probably been having quite an enlightening time together.”

Tres’ touch remained on William’s skin. “And when the Inquisition is finished with him, I will conduct an interrogation of my own. Kaspar von Neumann will have no rest until all my ques­tions are answered.”

William couldn’t help but admit, “I think I love you, Tres.”

The machine turned unblinking optical sensors on him. “You wish a response from me, but I have none to give you, Professor Wordsworth.”

William smiled wanly. “I know that, Tres, I don’t expect you to.”

The android continued, “Father Nightroad once said the same thing to me.”

“Oh ho – Abel? So, I have a rival for your affections, eh?”

“Negative,” the doll responded. “I have no affections to offer either of you.”

William eyed the smaller figure fondly. “But you’ve stayed with me ever since my, uh, inci­dent. You’ve hardly left my side the entire time. You’ve shown concern, Tres. What is that, if not affection?”

“As I shall reiterate: you are my programmer, Professor. If I am damaged, I require your assistance to return me to full operating capability. You must remain functional. That is mandatory.”

“And nothing more than that, Tres? Are you sure there’s nothing else? No feelings?”

The artificial visage never changed. “I repeat, Father Wordsworth, I have no response to your questions. There is nothing in my programming that correlates to your inquiry. If that is what you require of me, I cannot comply.”

William smiled. “Well, Tres, what I require of you – no, what I wish I could share with you is to take you to bed and have sex with you, make love with you. But unfortunately, that’s impossi­ble.”

The mechanical man showed no reaction, but responded levelly, “Such an operation is not designated illegal by my programming. There is nothing requiring it to be a forbidden action. There­fore your request is allowable.”

William’s smile widened. “Why, Father Tres, I do believe that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

“However,” the robot continued, “our hardware specs may not be compatible. Please address this discrepancy.”

Fond fingers reached out to touch a mechanical hand. “And your pillow talk is so… entic­ing…”

* * * * *

 _to be continued_ … _someday_ …


End file.
